"From Sister Patty to Brother John," he read.

There was no mistake now.

He laughed.

Patty turned.

"The writing is the same." "Is it ?" "Will you sing ?" No answer.
"Please." Patty stood between the door that led to the veranda and the door that led to the music-room--between Charybdis and Scylla, as it were, for she knew he would follow her whichever way she went.